I'll Try Anything Once
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: Marcus Flint convinces Harry Potter to try something new. And then Harry convinces himself to try something even better. SLASH Marcus/Harry


**I'll Try Anything Once**

~000~

The night had fallen cold, and shortly after sun down it began to rain. The street lamps sheered yellowly across the dark, catching the glint of raindrops and the mist.

Harry walked alone. He had no umbrella and was wet through before he thought to put up a discreet Umbrella Charm. He was in Muggle territory and couldn't afford another warning about keeping the Statute of Secrecy so soon after the fiasco that had been his last Auror assignment.

No one cared that it wasn't Harry's fault that the leak had happened in the first place. His partner at the time was just a nobody; as a well-known and controversial celebrity, Harry took the blame as a matter of course. Never mind all of the evidence pointing at the miserable Sebastian Basset, Harry's ex-partner.

He couldn't blame Sebastian for his sudden resignation from the Auror Department after the debacle. It might have had something to do with Harry breaking into his house in the wee hours of the morning and punching the shit out of him. Harry justified his actions as a fee for taking the blame for something that would have destroyed Sebastian's chances of being employed as anything more than a custodian.

Walking home from work was one of his favorite things to do. It gave him a chance to think and just not do anything of vital importance than get from point A to point B.

It was later tonight than he usually got away from his desk, and he knew that the temperature must have dropped still more since he'd left because his breath came out faintly-white in the uncertain light of the street lamps. He shoved his hands in his pockets and reluctantly quickened his pace. He was cold.

He was a block from his cramped flat when he spotted that his favorite haunt was still open. It was an American-style diner where he ate lunch whenever possible, and also his first place to go when he was upset and needed to be in an environment that wouldn't upset him. His flat wasn't good for much besides sleeping and showering. He didn't even have a kitchen.

He smiled when he saw that Ida, his favorite waitress, was manning the few late-night customers.

Flipping through a newspaper left by the last occupant while he waited, Harry enjoyed the atmosphere of his third home. His second home was his office, which was roughly the same size as his flat (tiny) and shared with three other men. Well, just two now, until he was assigned a new partner. The booth was clean but the vinyl seats were fraying at the seams. He pulled out loose threads while he read, twisting them between his fingers before dropping them onto the floor beneath the table.

A shadow fell over his newspaper and he looked up to see Ida smirking her customary jaded smirk at him.

"Well, well, well. I never thought I'd see you here at this time of night without your usual look of just having been through a war. You usually only come here at night when you're upset. What can I get you?"

"I'll have some of your lovely rhubarb pie."

She pursed her lips and shook her head, "Sorry; we're fresh out."

"Oh, serious words are going to be had," Harry feigned annoyance and then dropped the act a moment later, "What do you have? I've already had dinner and just want something sweet and some tea before I shove off to the old hovel."

"We've still got some mixed berry, but it's a little dry."

Harry shrugged, "I'm not picky. Bring me a piece and some strong tea."

She nodded her head, flicked his shoulder affectionately, and was gone.

He went back to the paper and tried to find something of interest to read. There was an article about a new book on metaphysics. He looked around and then began to carefully tear it out to give to Luna later.

"Don't you dare!"

He jumped, guilty. Ida smirked again and set down his pie and a hefty mug of powerful-smelling tea.

"I was just messing. You can tear that to confetti for all I care. In two hours it'll be yesterday's news, and I don't think anyone else is going to miss an article at this time of night."

"Thanks, Ida."

"Anything for you."

Left to himself once more, he finished taking out the article and folded it carefully before tucking it into the breast pocket of his pink button-down. It'd been a Christmas gift from Hermione that he'd never intended to wear. Unfortunately he'd been too busy to do laundry lately and then suddenly it was the only shirt he had left. He scowled down at the cuffs and at the subtle white stripes that matched the buttons. It was entirely too feminine for his tastes.

He ate his pie and began drinking his tea. He began to read an article about the Muggle economy and got so engrossed that he didn't notice when someone sat down across from him until he'd finished reading. He reached to take a gulp of the scalding tea and jumped when he saw a large man taking up the other half of his booth.

There was something familiar about him, but he couldn't put his finger on who he was or how he knew him. He hoped they hadn't met five years ago when he went through his brief gambling phase. That had lasted until he realized he'd had to sell Grimmauld Place to pay off his debts. Thankfully the loss of Sirius' childhood home had been cold enough water to break him of his addiction before it became too deeply entrenched.

After a moment of indecision he smiled politely.

"Hi. Um, sorry, but I don't remember your name. Do we know each other?"

The man smiled, and the sight of those slightly-too-large teeth brought his identity to the forefront of Harry's mind. It was Marcus Flint!

Had this happened ten years ago Harry would have recoiled and beat a hasty retreat. In school Flint had had the reputation of the toughest, meanest boy in school that would happily beat the snot out of anyone who so much as looked at him funny.

Now that they were adults, he knew that Flint was the owner of a large and successful steel manufacturing plant that contributed a substantial chunk of their annual profit to a number of charitable causes, both Wizarding and Muggle, including the Center for Battered Women. Flint also owned several companies operating in coal, textiles, and timber. He was a well-respected and upstanding member of society now who never let people see him getting too fat off of his profits.

Harry couldn't think of a single reason Flint would want to talk to him. Other than their superficial insults before and after Quidditch matches in his first two years of school he hadn't even looked at Flint. He knew he had been a Ministry plant into the Junior Death Eaters and that he had provided some vital information. That was impressive, as none of the other Junior Death Eaters had done anything like it.

He hadn't seen him in years.

"I'm Marcus Flint. We haven't spoken in years, and I apologize for intruding on your evening."

Harry waved a hand, reluctantly intrigued. What did Flint want? What kind of person was he really, if he was a bully and a spy and a philanthropist?

"It's fine. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I could ask you to do me a big favor."

Harry's eyebrows went up. He had grown wary of people appearing out of nowhere, all smiles, and requesting 'a favor'. "You can ask whatever you like."

A flicker of amusement passed over Marcus' face like a beam of light. He looked handsome when his eyes lit up like that. He was ordinary-looking when he was serious and his teeth were hidden. If he didn't know who he was, Harry would never have looked at him twice. He wished his own features were so forgettable.

"I am having a benefit for the Center for Battered Women, and I was wondering if you could come and give a speech. I am trying to attract Wizards to attend the event even though the charity is Muggle. There is no magical equivalent, and I think it's really important that the magical populace become more comfortable with interacting with Muggles," he paused, jerked his hand through his short hair, and added in a lower tone, "You know, after what all the prejudice and general ignorance resulted in the War. None of us want that to happen again."

That was a lot to take in. Harry was immediately in favor of anything he could do to improve Magical-Muggle relations, but a speech? He wasn't a very good public speaker to start with and he was out of practice.

"How long would my speech have to be? And do I have to write it?"

Marcus shook his head, "You don't have to write it if you don't want to. I can have one of my speech writers do that, and then they can have you read it and, if you want, check the sources to make sure the facts are straight for your own peace of mind. I am open to suggestions about the speech length."

"You _are_ aware that, though I'm definitely famous, I'm not necessarily universally supported? Are you sure that you want the kind of press that I could bring?"

Marcus gave him a lightning-quick smile, "That's why I picked you. I want people to talk about this, even if it isn't necessarily good. And I know that you have also donated in the past and still make small contributions when you can afford it. I thought the cause might mean something more to you than just some random rock star that's never heard of it."

Ida came over, gave Marcus the evil eye, and asked Harry if he wanted anything else. He held out his empty mug and she took it to the kitchen to refill it.

"When's the benefit?"

"Three months from now, at the Four Seasons in London. I haven't chosen which ballroom yet, but that's a minor detail. Does this mean you'll do it?"

Harry waited for Ida to hand him his tea and disappear back to the bar before he answered, "I guess you've talked me into it. Should I, you know, wear something fancy?"

"If you want to. It's a formal event and you'll stick out if you're not wearing a tuxedo, but you're doing me a favor just by showing up. Here," he dug into the pocket of his Muggle jeans and pulled out a card, "Here's my card. Call the number when you want to get in touch to work out the details of the speech or if you have any questions or concerns."

Harry took it, feeling the thick texture of the paper. He ran his thumb over the raised Flint family crest at the top and admired the classic un-showy lettering. He tucked it into his pocket next to the article for Luna.

"If you lose the card, my office is registered at the Ministry's Department of Information. Just tell them my name and they'll get you in touch."

"You're not taking any chances, are you?" Harry joked, snickering a little at the overload of information. He didn't remember Flint being a huge talker in school. Maybe that had changed. Or maybe he was just nervous. Harry had a tendency to stonewall when he was nervous, but both Neville and Hermione babbled.

"That is correct," Marcus smiled his lightning-fast smile again. Something hot curdled in Harry's stomach at the sight of those big white teeth. He smiled shakily back. What was wrong with him?

There was a beat of awkward silence before Marcus smiled one last time and said goodbye.

"It was nice meeting you again," Harry said, smiling as Marcus stood and zipped his expensive-looking Muggle raincoat.

"Yeah. This went much better than I thought it would."

Harry snorted, "Don't tell me. The Daily Prophet has been writing about my apparently terrible temper for so long that you started to believe it?"

Marcus winked, "Maybe. Have a good night, Potter! Don't get too wet out there. See you later."

And with that he strode towards the door and exited as abruptly as he'd entered Harry's life. Harry stared after him, bemused, even though it hurt his neck. Man, Marcus was a big man. He made Neville look normal. He remembered Marcus being built like a bull at Hogwarts, but he looked like he'd grown even more. And the shape of his shoulders, even under his rain jacket, clearly indicated either some clever padding or an impressive set of muscles.

~000~

The speech was less than ten minutes long, and was little more than a greeting, an expression of gratitude for people's generosity in coming, and then some information about the latest progress the Center had made along with the latest statistics. Then he thanked everyone for being there again, urged them to be generous when it came time to formally donate rather than pay for entry, and one last thank-you before he could sit down.

He was at a prominent table towards the front of the room, and had been seated between Marcus and a very wealthy Muggle woman named Muriel Jenkins in her late fifties. She was very friendly and made Harry feel completely at ease before and after the speech he'd grown to dread in the time before he performed it.

Things had evened out at work, and he'd been assigned a new partner. Phelan was very quiet and good at following Harry's orders. He also had decent ideas the few times he spoke up to question Harry's plans. Harry liked him. He just wished he wasn't so ghostly. Phelan would come and go so quietly he wondered if he was hired to give Harry a heart attack.

Marcus squeezed his shoulder, drawing him into the party.

"You did fantastic. You're a natural."

Harry laughed, "That is a load of-" his eyes flicked to Muriel and he quickly cut himself off. "You know that isn't true. I could barely look anyone in the eye."

"I think you're selling yourself short. You have a lot of natural charisma and you're good at keeping an audience's attention. You should speak more often."

Harry took a sip of wine, "I think we both know this is a ploy for you to get me to come to another one of these affairs."

"And so what if it is?" Marcus countered, his eyes bright and sparkling in the light of the chandeliers. Harry should have known that Marcus loved to argue. Before Harry could say anything smart, someone in a very expensive dress came over and started talking to him. As the host, Marcus was very popular with the guests and couldn't just confine himself to the table. When she'd left, he smiled at everyone at the table and then stood to make rounds of the dining guests as they ate, making enquiries as to their satisfaction.

Harry chatted with Muriel, but his eyes tracked Marcus' progress around the room. It was obvious that he intimidated a number of the male guests with his massive dimensions. Harry felt stabs of what felt frighteningly similar to jealousy go through him every time a female guest would smile just a little too wide, or find an excuse to lay her hand on his arm. He knew what he was feeling was completely irrational and tried to ignore the stabs as best as he could.

When the meal was finished there was dancing. Harry swept Muriel around the floor to the best of his abilities and ended up mingling with the contingent of wealthy Wizards who had made an appearance. Most of them were friendly to his face, but Harry knew most of them would go home and tell their wives or mistresses nasty things about him that had no basis in reality.

He started to depress himself, so he wandered out and took a walk around the spacious lobby. The receptionists smiled politely at him, asked if he needed anything, and otherwise left him in peace.

He sat on one of the sofas in a small cubbyhole by the restrooms and took off his jacket.

Some time later, which he had spent flipping through the magazines next to his sofa and dozing, he felt someone sit beside him. He turned and found Marcus there; he was eyeing him with that same bright-eyed look he'd given him in the ballroom. Harry smiled sheepishly, hoping no sign of the clenching in his stomach was visible on his face. Marcus' pupils were dilated and he tried very hard not to notice that now that he had noticed it.

"Have I been missed? I just got a little overwhelmed with the noise."

"Please don't apologize. You did your duty, and you could have gone home the minute you concluded your speech if you wanted to. The benefit is over except for a few lingering drunks haunting the free bar. I just came out here to say thank you."

Harry smiled sincerely, "It was my pleasure."

"Thank you. So, are you going to hang out here until the staff kicks you out as a hobo, or would you like to go get a drink?"

"A drink with a Slytherin? Do you intend to poison me, Marcus?"

Marcus smirked, "Perhaps."

Harry's stomach did an acrobatic maneuver. He was sure it wasn't his imagination. There was definitely something more than friendly in Marcus' behavior. Now all he had to do was decide how he was going to react to that. He had never kissed a Slytherin before, much less had a relationship with one in any way shape or form associated with romance.

But he would try anything once.

Without giving Marcus a chance to think twice or move away, he seized him by the back of his thick neck and pressed their lips together. It had been a long time since Harry had kissed anyone, and for a horrifying moment he was sure that he was terrible at it. He had ruined everything. He pulled away, looking at his lap. His fingers slowly unclenched from the back of Marcus' neck. As he was retracting his hand, Marcus interrupted its path. Harry flicked his eyes up. Marcus gave him a slow smile, one that lasted much longer than any other smile Harry had seen from him yet. He lifted Harry's palm to his lips and kissed it twice in succession. He slowly lowered Harry's hand and finally released it.

Harry leaned forward, hesitated, and Marcus met him halfway.

The Wizarding populace certainly talked about the benefit for months afterwards, but mostly in conjunction with the shocking news that Marcus Flint, Mr. Successful, was dating the hapless boy hero Harry Potter. Popular opinion was sharply divided.

Donations increased by forty percent.

Harry and Marcus celebrated by moving Harry out of his closet of a flat and into Marcus' spacious ancestral home.

It's good to try new things.

~000~

End I'll Try Anything Once

Marcus! And Harry! Don't we just love them to bits? _I _sure do.


End file.
